


At my weakest

by LeighJ



Series: Lyrically [5]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Come Sharing, Comfort/Angst, Cunnilingus, Daryl Dixon & Beth Greene Friendship, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Ex Sex, F/M, Fucking, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inner Dialogue, Light Angst, Make up sex, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, POV Beth Greene, Past Relationship(s), Reunion Sex, Reunions, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Sex, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21634357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeighJ/pseuds/LeighJ
Summary: Beth Greene is trying to move on, but Daryl Dixon is a hard man to forget, or let go of.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon & Beth Greene, Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Series: Lyrically [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1577596
Comments: 79
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Influenced by James Arthur- At my weakest, where the title also comes from. Random, not quite sure what it is but enjoy 🙃

The day has been long and the evening longer.

Beth is in good spirits, if a little flustered because she’s spent every possible moment she can searching for her ex-boyfriend. She grimaces to herself. She sounds like a complete and utter stalker.

But she has been. Looking for him, that is. Through the vows, through the lovely sentiments shared between the bride and groom, through the cake cutting, she’s been relentlessly, shamelessly searching for Daryl Dixon.

“I don’t think he’s comin’, Beth,” Maggie whispers sweetly in her ear, mindful of Beth’s tender, broken heart even as she positively glows in her wedding dress. 

Guilt eats Beth alive that she’s making today about her. About her and her problems, her failed relationship but when Maggie asked her to be her maid of honour, the first thing she thought of, the very first was of him.

Not Maggie finally marrying her childhood sweetheart Glenn, not the privilege of being her maid of honour, not excitement for her sister but herself. Selfish as always. She twists her lips and pushes that thought away, the scar on her wrist itching. 

"I wasn’t lookin’ for anyone,” she deflects, even when her sister gives her a look that says she’s a hundred percent not buying it. “You look stunnin’,” she says instead. 

Maggie flushes, the colour high in her cheekbones as her eyes seek her new husband across the dance floor, as if it’s him she credits her beauty to, before she glances back at Beth, sad and alone at the bar, and her smile deflates a little more, giving Beth more guilt than she can deal with. “So d’you. An’ he’s a fool, Beth, t’miss out on you.”

There’s a noise she makes in the back of her throat, one that says she doesn’t want to go there and won’t allow Maggie to push her into the subject. Her sister admits defeat, gently stroking her arm before leaving to mingle with her other guests.

Beth watches her go, her brunette curls tumbling over her shoulder and her green eyes brighter than the ring on her finger. Beth’s eyes track the roomful of people, friends and family she should mingle with too, since she doesn’t see them all that much anymore.

She doesn’t want to though. The reason she left her little town has more to do with them than her failed relationship and ex-boyfriend. More to do with their pitying stares and sympathetic smiles than Daryl.

Cupping her wrist, her fingers lightly trace the scar there and she shudders back the guilt; the hurt; the grief. Losing her mama was enough, more than enough for her twenty year old self to deal with, but losing her brother three months later?

That was too much. That was far too much. Because it’s not like it was an accident and it’s not like the whole town didn’t know it. Shawn hung himself from the barn rafters and let Beth find him there, all bulging eyes and gaping mouth.

Let Beth be the one to carry that image, to burden it upon her shoulders. Let her be the one to see his ghost, to feel his presence haunting her every day, and she didn’t want to hurt herself, not really, because he had already done it and it was becoming some sick family curse. 

But it didn’t stop her from taking that piece of glass and dragging it over her wrist. It didn’t stop her from watching the blood ooze out of the slit with fixed eyes and shallow breaths, just waiting for the moment she would join the missing half of her family again.

So selfish, so dismissive of her sister and daddy, who were right here, alive and wishing she would be alive with them. Maybe it was the guilt that stopped her fighting Daryl off those few years ago.

Maybe it was the shame of the Greene curse, where they all did off with themselves that let her allow him to bundle her in his truck and rush her off to the emergency room.

Let him sit with her in that worn old chair, silent and watching, not judgemental, not invasive but there.

Daryl had been a stranger then. Just some guy who worked on the farm every other Saturday when he had the time, fixing shit that was always breaking, and she should have been embarrassed.

Should of curled up in shame when his blue eyes looked at her, looked at the bandage around her wrist, but she never did. Never did speak to him after that either, not for nearly six months because he either wasn’t there when she was, or vice versa.

When she did find the time to thank him, she was blooming into a whole new person, and maybe that’s why she was open enough to allow his squinted eyes, his gruff voice and his rough manners to worm inside her. 

Maybe that’s why she fell so hard for him, why she gave him all of her time, all of her attention, all of her being, until she burned out. Until she had no one and nothing but him.

Just him and her, and it didn’t matter where they were or what they were doing, it only mattered that they were together. That he was with her, that he was _in_ her.

A seeping, hot wave of prickles flows from the crown of her head to her toes and she shoots from her seat, needing air, needing to breathe, to let go of Daryl goddamn Dixon and her incessiant need to see him again, to be near him, to touch him.

Just let it all go, let the heat he still invokes with the mere thought of his name swirl away. When she makes it onto the stone balcony, Beth doesn’t even take the time to appreciate its beauty.

To look at its sprawling vines climbing the walls or the panes of patterned glass in the door, she just rushes for the rail and grips it, taking in big, heaving breaths.

The world feels shaky in a way it hasn’t since before she and Daryl were together, since he made her feel safe and okay; alive again. Truth is, she was crazy for him then and she’s still crazy for him now.

Even if it didn’t work out. Even if it all fell apart and she was left with the broken pieces. But it was her own fault and she knows it because she did it all wrong. She got her hands on him and didn’t let go, didn’t relent, didn’t stop pursuing, always in his space, always there and never anywhere else. 

When they first got together he pulled her from her shell, but in the process of being with him, she reverted into a whole new shell that cocooned him and her from the world.

The moon beams down on her as she tries to sort through her hectic thoughts, taking deep, even breaths. The balcony doors unlatch behind her and she swivels around, not wanting to believe but almost doing so. 

Even the tiny bit of hope she allows to worm through is enough to steal the breath from her when it’s not Daryl stepping through those doors, just random faces she doesn’t know.

Probably Glenn’s friends, since she knows all of Maggie’s. She twists her mouth together and decides it’s time to freshen up and fix up. She passes the tipsy couple and their sparkling eyes, refusing to remember a time when that was her.

Heading straight for the bathroom, where she intends to fix herself up and then grab a flute of champagne and enjoy her sister’s wedding, goddamn it. The bathroom is empty and quiet, smelling of lavender which actually does relax her. 

Heading straight for the sink, she places her sparkling clutch on the side, distracted for a moment as the light catches it and sparkles in her eye. There’s a nice little pyramid of fresh cotton washcloths near her right elbow, so she takes the top one and dampens it, pressing it to the nape of her neck and her forehead, taking the sweat and humidity of a hot summer day away. 

With that in its designated wash hamper, she fixes her makeup and straightens her dress, taking a step back to run her eyes over her reflection. Face fresher, her eyes look a little brighter, less lack lustre and her dress is still exceedingly pretty, all pale blue and soft.

The fish plait in her hair is looking worse for wear, but she doesn’t undo it lest she cause any arguments with Maggie. Feet hurting the longer she stands there, she decides it’s time to re-join the party and smile at the strangers of her past as they try to invade her future.

Exiting the bathroom, she heads back to the bar, painting a grin on her glossy lips; determined not to be the sad sack she was earlier. 

"Champagne, please,” Beth orders sweetly, crossing her legs as she settles into her stool. 

“Whisky ain't y'bag anymore, huh?”

Beth freezes in the act of pushing the tail of her plait over her shoulder, her muscles cold but her insides burning. Of course she would spend all day looking for him and yet he’s gone and found her.

"C’mon Greene, sure y'can turn an’ look at me.” Daryl’s voice coaxes, hot and urgent like she remembers. 

And damn it, she finds she can. Despite her frozen state, her head turns to cast eyes upon her ex-boyfriend, a chapter of her life she wants to revisit, a road she wants to walk down again, and again. 

Turns her eyes to find him in all his glory. His blue eyes and his dark hair, his squint and his flat mouth. His gorgeous tux, moulding to his body. Turns to find him on the arm of another woman.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ended up being three parts - surprise, surprise! Giving you part two 'cause I'm ill as heck and your comments make me smile :)

Well, this sucks.

This is _not_ how Beth planned to reunite with her ex-boyfriend, not at all. She wanted to be calm, collected; mature and she most certainly wanted him to be alone. Now she’s a flustered, gaping mess and she’s looking at the woman on his arm more than she is at him.

The moisture in her mouth has evaporated and so she’s left with a smile that feels too clumsy on her face, frozen and fixed. “Daryl.”

“Beth.” His voice still shapes her name like he’s pressing it against her thigh, nibbling his way up her skin and his crooked half smile still makes her stomach flutter.

Clutching the folds of her dress in her lap as subtle as she can, she swallows the vicious jealousy eating her insides and tips her chin at the woman watching their exchange with big, curious eyes. “Lost y’manners since I last saw you? Not gonna introduce y’friend?”

_Your gorgeous friend._

She hopes the word _friend_ is properly received in lieu of the word _date_.

“Rosita,” the woman cuts in before Daryl can speak, reaching an olive skinned hand out to shake.

Beth bites her grimace back and transforms it into a grin, offering a hand she’s trying not to let shake. “Beth Greene.”

“Daryl’s told me all ‘bout you,” Rosita informs her nonchalantly, retracting her hand and glancing briefly at her French manicure, as if worried Beth messed it up just by touching her.

“Has he now?” And the smile on Beth’s face stretches even looser, even clumsier, trying to decide what expression she wants to make.

“Lighten up, Greene. S’all good stuff,” Daryl comments breezily, all calm and no bluster, his voice in that low register he used to save just for her and no one else.

So damn casual is he that it’s grinding on Beth’s last fucking nerve. Why is he being a complete and utter jerk right now? He hasn’t seen her in two years after their big break up and _this_ is how he treats her? Fuck _that._

“Well, was nice t’meet you.” Beth forces out in Rosita’s direction, refusing to take in the dark haired beauty or look too closely at her stupid, perfect face. “Good seein’ you, Daryl.” She clips off, taking her clutch from the counter and the champagne flute she didn’t notice while she was drowning in self-pity.

As prim and proper as she can manage, she slides from the stool and breezes past the pair of them, not sparing them another glance. Not even looking back to appreciate the way Rosita’s dress hugs all her curves, or the way Daryl’s jacket cradles his biceps. Nope. Not Bethany Greene. She’s storming her way across half the dance floor before she realises she has nowhere to go.

No one to run to.

She’ll be damned if she makes Maggie’s big day about her any more than it already is, what with the whispers trailing the room and even more so now Daryl’s turned up with another woman. It’s a small town and romances – failed or otherwise- are gold dust to these people. It’s not like her and Daryl weren’t already a hot commodity back in the day, with their age difference and all. So when news broke that they called it quits, Beth ran. Packed up all her shit and at twenty five took her worldly possessions to the big city. Left behind her county bumpkin town, the small minded people and most of all, Daryl. Running away from him, from their relationship, from the mistakes she made in her desperation to be with him.

Run away from the Greene curse and her family past, run away from her grief. Ran away from it all and just left it behind like discarded rubbish. But truth is, she’s right back to square one. Right back to this small town and these small people, right back to their whispers and right back to him. Right back to Daryl and the way he makes her body sing with one look. Right back to his hot gaze she can feel from clear across the room like a heavy hand. Right back to the pieces of him that she wants to fit back into the pieces of her, until they’re united and one. After everything. After all the wrong and the mistakes, she still wants him like an ache in her muscles.

Beth downs her flute of champagne, passes it off to a waitress and snags another. With no one to talk to and nowhere to run neither, she lets her frustrations out on the dance floor. Twirling in her pretty dress and laughing as she swallows more bubbles, letting her skirts swish and her heart ease. Dancing with Maggie, with her daddy, with Glenn, with anyone that feels like joining her, not caring for their face or name. Not thinking about _him_ , over in the corner, perching at the bar, emerging from the balcony, sometimes alone and sometimes with _her_.

Regardless, it’s always his eyes she feels like a touch, always him seeking her, that bond between them tugging and clutching around her middle, beckoning her back; beckoning her home. By her fourth flute, she’s decidedly tipsy and not in the mood to go any further with it. She’s saved from having to, the hour upon them for Maggie and Glenn to head off on their honeymoon.

“Have fun,” she begs of her sister outside the venue as they squeeze each other and rock side to side, Maggie’s hair in her nose and smelling of the farm where they shared their childhood.

“I will,” Maggie laughs, her eyes bright and excited.

They release each other but Maggie keeps her hands on Beth’s forearms, thumb curled over Beth’s wrist and the scar that lies there; eyes serious and pointed. “Do whatever you wanna do, y’hear me?”

“Don’t I always?” Beth brushes her off with a grin she doesn’t really feel, not at all wanting to get into this, glancing around before looking back at her sister. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, okay, Mags?”

Daryl clearly didn’t come here for her and frankly, she can’t complete with the beauty he’s had on his arm most of the night. Beth’s all lights and cream where Rosita is every guys dark, erotic fantasy and she can’t compare, she knows that; she’s not even gonna kid herself and try.

“I do worry ‘bout you, Bethy,” Maggie answers seriously, squeezing Beth’s wrists purposefully. “I jus’ want you to be happy.”

“I _am_ happy,” Beth stresses, gently removing Maggie’s hands from her wrists so as not to offend her. “Happy for you an’ Glenn. Now go an’ have _fun._ An’ don’t you dare call me for at least, like a week. I mean it!”

Maggie shakes her head begrudgingly, letting Beth get away with her subject change and Beth can’t blame her. It’s her wedding night and it’s time for her older sister to be selfish, to let go of her worries for her only living sibling. Pulling her in again, they share one more tight squeeze before Glenn steals Maggie’s hand, giving Beth a wave she returns. They clamber into their going away car, and the crowd all around her cheers and waves, watching the newlywed couple pull away. Her daddy gives her a side hug that makes Beth smile softly, a sadness in her chest despite the fact her sister will be returning. She’s just feeling dramatic and sorry for herself, it’s not like she’s never gonna see Maggie again.

After her daddy has pressed a kiss to her forehead and wished her goodnight, Beth makes her way back inside and begins to climb the left stairs out of the two leading to the landing. Her feet pang achingly in her heels, begging her to hurry to her room so she can get them off, get out of her dress and chill out. At the top of the staircase, she glances over the railing and into the foyer, down at the small crowd of guests, most of them brewing plans to keep the night going. Beth chews her lip looking at them, a part of her wishing she was at least allowed to be in that group, accepted by those people.

There’s certainly some down there who she once called friend, before she met Daryl and alienated everyone she knew. Alienated them to have Daryl all to herself, to spend every free moment with him, until she even pushed him away with her clingy behaviour. Shaking her head, she sighs and begins to dig in her clutch for her key card, lifting her face to her door at the end of the hall, her legs striding with purpose. Her mind is already on her mini-bar, more than happy to go further than tipsy in the comfort of her own room. Pulling the card back from the reader, she props her shoulder against the door to wedge it open, fumbling for the card holder affixed to the wall to bring the lights on.

It clicks as she slides it home, removing her shoulder so the door begins to swing shut behind her. Accept it doesn’t click. Beth turns her head and finds Daryl’s large palm plastered against the front of it, his eyes dark and intent as he mumbles, “we gonna talk?”

She presses her lips together as if she has any self-control, as if she hasn’t already caved. “Where’s Rosita?”

Daryl chews his lip, glancing around the hall for any lingering guest. “Aint’ ‘round. It ain’t what y’think, alrite? Jus’… can we do this inside?”

She flicks her brow at him, impressed with herself that she’s at least pretending she’s gonna turn him away. “How’s it anythin’ but what it looks like, Daryl?”

Daryl’s tongue flicks out to wet his lips. “Beth, we both know m’only here to see you, so jus’ let me in.”

Beth hates the way her heart beats so eagerly at his words, hates how desperate she is to believe him. Folding her arms over her chest, she tries to physically ward off Daryl’s eyes that make her weak kneed, and his tattered knuckles on the door she wants to feel on her cheek. It’s impossible, because _he’s_ never been the problem.

It’s always been her.

“After your jerk move tonight?” She shakes her head, still acting like she has the will to turn him away. “Should be shuttin’ the door in y’face.” Daryl sighs, at the end of his tether, Beth can tell and if she wants answers, if she wants to hear what he’s gotta say, she can’t push no more. So she pulls the door open and gestures inside. “Hurry up, ‘fore I change my mind.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY IS THIS GROWING!? I blame you all!!

“Drink?” Beth asks, trying to remember her manners even as her stomach knots.

“I’ll get it,” Daryl answers, moving around her hotel room like he’s been here before.

Completely familiar as he takes the two glasses from the side and puts them on their rounded bottoms, bending to the mini bar beneath. Beth watches him, her heart clutching at the domestic familiarity. Remembering the times he’s grabbed her a drink or cooked her dinner, watched her get ready in the morning from the comfort of his bed. She physically aches to touch him, having to press her sweaty palms to her thighs to stop herself. When he’s got two glasses full of whisky, the little mini bar bottles discarded, he passes her one, his eyes such a dark blue they steal her breath. Even his fingertips against hers as the glass swaps hands makes her stomach flutter.

“Thanks,” she whispers softly, sipping her drink to buy time, not sure where to go from here, not even sure where to start. “So...”

Daryl leans back against the counter and she’s distracted all over again, her eyes taking full inventory now that they're alone in such confined spaces. His tux jacket is gone, his shirtsleeves rolled to reveal his dusky forearms sprinkled with dark hairs. His tie is also gone and Beth refuses to believe it, along with his jacket, has ended up anywhere but his own room. His hair is its usual messy scraggly self, something about him that’s never changed and is never gonna, though there’s one part at the front that suggests he attempted to smooth it flat.

“So,” Daryl repeats, licking the whisky droplets from his lower lip, tightening everything from Beth’s stomach downwards.

“You wanna talk, let’s talk.” Beth’s voice is all quiet confidence, her posture straight despite the ache in her feet. “Wanna hear what you gotta say ‘bout your new lady friend.”

Daryl rolls his eyes, swallows another gulp of his whisky. “Guess I gotta roll with that shit.”

“Yeah, _y'do_.” Beth just barely stops herself from hissing. “I know we ain’t a thing no more Daryl, but the fuck was that shit?”

His tongue rolls against his inner lip, bulging the flesh before he reaches to rub his chin, the silence so deafening, she can actually _hear_ his rough fingertips rubbing against the bristles of his beard. “Was a dick move, comin’ wit’, Rosy. She’s a friend, nothin’ more, but I knew what you’d think. Knew what everyone’d think.”

There’s nothing that can stop the sour pucker of her mouth. “Oh, _Rosy_ is it? Why don’t y’head on out an’ find R _osy,_ then huh? What’d you doin’ beggin’ at my damn door?”

Beth’s panting by the time she’s done, all riled up now with the jealousy that’s been eating her from the inside out, bringing with it a surge of insecurities she hasn’t felt since she was with Daryl over two years ago. And it’s not like she can’t hear what she sounds like, not like she can’t hear her younger self just below the surface, not like she doesn't recall the arguments gone by where she questioned him about everyone woman he spoke to in passing, but recognising it don’t stop it.

“She’s a goddamn friend, Beth an’ y’left _me 'membe-"_

“Oh, so y’single an’ y’can do whatever y’damn want, s’that, huh? That what you’re goddamn sayin’ to me, Dixon?” She fumes, positively shaking now, trembling from her head to her feet.

God, she is so _not_ over him. Not like she ever convinced herself she was but fuck, he’s still got her hook line and sinker over here while he’s raising above it all, swanning around with new women who are just his _friend._ New gorgeous women.

“You’s the one who jus’ up an' left town! The hell was I supposed to do?” Daryl demands, waving his glass in his hand as he speaks so the liquid swishes up the sides and splashes back down, threatening to crest the rim.

“Run after me!” Beth cries, before she can think not to, before she can hold the words back. “ _Jesus_ , Daryl, I was barely twenty one when we got together! I’d lost momma an’ Shawn, an’ I was a goddamn _kid_ an’ I give you four years of my _life!”_

“I know that!” He shouts back, his eyes hard but shiny, like he just might cry. “I goddamn know that an’ tha’s why I called quits!"

Beth runs her free hand through her hair in distress, not sure what she ever thought she could accomplish in one night. In all her stupid fantasies they just met eyes across the room and forgot about their past, forgot about all the shit that was buried under the good sex and laughter. The deep seated problems that she was just sweeping under the rug like they weren’t never coming back to bite her in the goddamn ass.

“I know I was too much, too attached, know I was… _clingy_.” Beth admits in an achy whisper, her throat tightening with the shame that comes from speaking the words out loud. “I know I fucked us up but you didn’t even _try._ Y'jus' lemme go like it meant nothin', like them years together meant nothin’.”

And not feeling like she can utter another word without crying, she hurriedly drinks down her whisky. Her mouth puckers at the burn and she stares down into her empty glass like it holds all her answers, like it can turn back time. She’s such a fool. A fool for just thinking she could fix this, that it was fixable. Thinking just because she grew up a little, ‘cause she made some more friends and got a life that Daryl would be right here waiting for her. It’s not like she’s a young, pretty twenty year old anymore. Not like she’s still got her big, bright eyes and scrawny little figure. She’s three years shy of thirty, the big one and she's changed, sure she has but maybe she hasn’t changed enough.

“Beth,” Daryl finally whispers, coaxing her to look at him. “I broke it off ‘cause I’s scared. ‘Cause I could see how hard y'was hangin’ onto me an’ that weren’t the problem.” He skips right over her scoff, still talking even as she looks away again. “I's scared you was losin' you an’ jus’ bein’ who you thought I wanted y’t be. You hearin' me, girl? You weren’t _clingy._ You didn’t fuck up. I did. ‘Cause y'were too young f'me, too young for the kinda love I wanted t'give you an’ I _knew_ it. But I didn’t listen, not even t'myself.”

God, she wants to believe him so _bad._ She's spent so long beating herself up over this, beating herself up for losing him, for letting him go, for running away and it would be so nice, so goddamn easy to let go of that blame and let him shoulder it. But she shakes her head, folding her arms and letting her glass dangle from her fingertips, her thumb twisting her forefinger rings around in agitation so they clink off the glass.

“Y'hearin’ me?” Daryl repeats and there’s a soft _thump_ as the glass goes down on the side.

Beth doesn’t look up, until he takes her chin and forces her to. She presses her lips together, wanting so much to believe him, her eyes blurring as tears gather but it’s not about Rosita, not really. “Why didn’t you call? Ever? Did y'even care that I left?”

Daryl’s hand reaches for her face, his thumb rough and smooth all at once as it strokes her cheek, setting Beth’s lashes to a flutter. “’Course I did. Damn near broke my heart worse than leavin’ you. But I did it f' _you,_ whether y'gonna believe me or not, don’t matter. I know what I know, an’ I know y'needed y'space. Give y'whole young life t'me, Greene. All y' years an' I’s the greedy bastard who let you. Needed t’let you go.”

He catches the tear that slips down her cheek with his thumb, rubbing it into her skin. “An' f'I didn’t come back?” She challenges, lip trembling. “If you never saw me ‘gain?”

“Wouldn’t have let it happen. Knew you’d have to come home some time, knew you still loved me much as I love you.”

More tears crest and she crumbles, her head bowing to his chest. He takes her glass from her weak grip and she hears it touch the side. “C’mon, si’down.”

The bed's but a few steps behind her and with Daryl as guide, she’s sitting on the edge in seconds. He bends to his knees and takes her right ankle gently, fingers thick and warm, fingertips so sinfully rough and lifts it to place a kiss there. Then he pulls the zip down on her heel, cradling the arch of her foot as he slips it off and discards it to the floor. Beth watches breathlessly, tears drying on her face and in her lashes. God, her make-up must be a goddamn mess.

“Daryl,” she whispers with a frog in her throat, watching as he does the same to the opposite ankle.

Just the sight of his hands on her legs makes her feel funny but his eyes looking up into hers, kneeled down on the floor nearly kills her. “D’you ever think ‘bout tryin’ ‘gain?”

Pressing a kiss just above her ankle bone, he glances up again with a tiny smile that feels like it’s just for her. “Every day.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! I re-wrote it like 10000 times and I'm honestly not that happy with it, but if I read it again I'm gonna go crazy, so just have it!

Beth desperately wants to let go of all her stress and most especially the past; let go of the jealousy of seeing Daryl with Rosita. Wants to relax into his touch on her thighs, wants to melt into the bed and just roll with it. But she’s struggling, shoulders tight and spine straight, mind pulled in two trying to enjoy Daryl’s kisses crawling up behind her knee, but too distracted. It’s stupid, because she was looking for him all day long, was hoping to run into him, was secretly hoping they would end up in bed together if she's honest with herself.

Except she underestimated how hard it is to shed the girl she was when she was with him. Underestimated the sheer hurt pressing against her skin and it’s not letting her enjoy herself, not letting her enjoy him.

Daryl’s sigh whispers against her inner thigh as he glances up at her, his fingers curled around her knee, fingers thick and warm. “Y’thinkin’ too much.”

“I know,” Beth groans, throwing herself onto her back so she’s now staring up at the ceiling and not at Daryl on his knees.

Standing, he clambers onto the bed beside her and lays down to her right, his hand spanning her stomach like he used to years ago, spawning butterflies beneath his fingers. “Beth, brought Rosy ‘cause I didn’t know what I’s walkin’ into. Didn't mean t'fuck y'up so much.”

“What's that supposed t’mean?” Beth whispers, turning on her side to face him and pillowing her hand beneath her neck, elbow planted into the bed.

He nearly distracts her completely when he raises his arms behind his head, flexing his biceps until they strain at the fabric of his shirt. “What f’you was with some guy? Moved on? What f’I was wrong ‘bout you lovin’ me still? Huh? What was I gonna do then?”

“She that good of a friend, Rosita?” She licks her suddenly dry lips, heart racing. “That y'd trust her to hold y’back if I was here with some other guy?”

Daryl’s head tips back, his eyes so blue and intent they make her pulse race. “Trust her ‘nough to keep me sane. ‘Nough to stop me cavin’ the bastards head in.”

A smile that shouldn’t bloom, does, taking her mouth in a wide spread of her cheeks. “I haven’t.” She shakes her head, suddenly so hot in the face it’s like she’s having some kinda allergic reaction. “Mean, I ain’t. With anyone. Y'know, since you. I ain’t.”

Daryl pauses a beat, winding her insides tight enough to choke her before he swallows and tips his chin in a much loved and missed mannerism, filling her with nostalgia. “Me neither. Ain’t wanted to.”

“Me too,” Beth hurries to say, hoping to convey the severity of which she means it. “Only wanted you.”

A smile curls on his mouth, stealing her breath. His hand reaches out again from where it slid away, taking her hip and raising to his knees as he pushes on it, forcing her flat onto the mattress with an _oof._ “That right?”

Nodding frantically, she lets her thighs cage his hips, legs spreading on instinct. “That's right, an’ I know y’only wanted me too.”

“Hmm,” he grumbles, the vibrations rippling through his throat as he lowers down on his forearms, caging her in. “That what you think?”

Tipping her chin back defiantly, she whispers against his lips, “that's what _I know._ ”

Sucking in a trembling breath, Daryl bends his head to hers and takes her mouth, his hands caging her face; his tongue urgent. Beth groans, allowing him free reign to slide his tongue across hers, to remap the backs of her teeth after so many years. Her hands grip his bulging shoulders, touching him with the same urgent frenzy, so grateful to touch him again and yet still so, so greedy. Palms sliding down his chest, she hurries at his buttons, fumbling them more times than not. She only manages to get the first couple undone before Daryl pulls away with a rattling gasp, his lips attacking her neck and shoulder, behind her ear, intent on finding all her weak spots again.

Beth shudders, grinding her hips against his rising cock as her lips leak whimpers of need. Skin so hot and itchy with desire she could cry. Sliding against her dress, he pushes it up her thighs, his mouth sucking up patches of skin into his mouth and leaving soft markings. She trembles watching this, torn between familiarity and new excitement, her guts twisting and twining.

“Missed y'goddamn skin so much,” he groans against her thigh, rubbing his beard there so it leaves a red patch of flesh.

Fingers sliding though Daryl's hair, her eyes flutter shut as she melts like butter, moaning under her breath when his mouth presses hot over her panties. Her breath stutters in her chest, anticipation curling deep and depraved. His lips tease at the edges of the silk, beard scratching her inner thighs as his hands grip her hips tight enough to ache. 

"Please, Daryl," she begs quietly, her throat tight and sore, hands running through his hair. "God, _please_."

It's been so long since she's been turned on like this, so long since she's had someone on top of her, _inside_ her. She never wanted to give her body to anyone else. Never wanted to share herself with anyone but Daryl. The most she's done in their separation is get herself off, which is quick and formal, no desire, no rush of adrenaline through her veins. Daryl's answering groan sends her heart racing, the sound of it nearly all she can hear. His fingers squeeze her hips and he bites down on the edge of her panties, yanking them down her thighs. 

Beth helps, releasing him to reach down and shove them all the way to her knees. Daryl sits back on his haunches, lifting her legs straight in the air as he rolls them up her legs and off her feet. They tremble as he presses his mouth back to her ankle, working hot, wet kisses up her goose bumped flesh. 

"Y'still smell so fuckin' good," he rumbles against her skin, lightly nipping her so she jerks and withers. 

"Daryl," she moans deliriously, like a small child begging for candy. " _Please_!"

A soft smile takes his face as he spreads her legs, his eyes intent on her bare, wet pussy. Beth's temperature shoots through the roof, burning her from the inside out the longer he stares, practically salivating over what he sees awaiting him. Finally, he slides down onto his belly and presses his mouth over her cunt, his tongue spearing between her wet lips to flick at her clit.

Jerking, she shoves her hands into his hair with a cry. "Jesus!" Her eyes squeeze shut, a dark flame low in her gut surprising her with its intensity. With how close she is already. "Oh fuck, Daryl."

Working away, he slurps between her legs like she's the most delicious thing he's ever eaten in his life, attacking her cunt with such gusto she shudders and doesn't seem to be able to stop. Moans and cries leak from her lips, her throat strangled closed as her attention zeros in between her legs, Daryl's mouth and tongue destroying her. His shoulder pushes her thigh up so that it hangs over it; her toes digging into his back as his left hand presses against her pussy. Slipping in the mess, two fingers slide into her oozing wetness, immediately sucked deep. 

Breath strangling her, Beth's voice is near hoarse as she cries, "Oh my God! I'm so close, I'm so close!" 

Daryl growls against her sopping wet cunt, his fingers driving into her and curling into the exact spot that always brings her demise. Throwing her other leg over his shoulder, she squeezes both of them around his head, her fingers desperate and near cruel in his hair, grinding his face deeper; his tongue harder. That spring in her belly winds ever tighter and tighter, seizing her limbs into frozen ecstasy as her mouth gapes open. The orgasm pours out of her like liquid, yanking out of her stomach like a force of nature, spiralling down, down until she nearly loses her mind with the force of it. 

Beth's jaw finally unhinges, a scream loud and shrieking tearing free of her mouth; her legs locking and shaking around Daryl's head as her body withers. The sheer force of it twists her spine, sobbing as it flips her onto her stomach in a desperate bid to crawl away from the onslaught of her orgasm, getting nowhere fast when Daryl takes her hips and brings her sliding back, his mouth still working at her pussy until she’s sure she’s gonna scream the damn place down. Panting desperately, Daryl detaches from her clit and then spanks it, sending Beth skittering across the bed with a keening whine.

She can barely catch her breath, still trying to get it back, along with her rational mind when his zip undoing punches through the air, his cock pressing against her wet folds mere seconds after. Pushing her hips back almost without thought, Beth rises on shaking hands and helps him sink half way into her wet heat. Her toes curl, fingers squeezing the cover beneath her as he works his hips, thrusting his fat cock deeper into her sopping wet cunt. Pretty sure she’s seeing stars, Beth squeezes her eyes shut and open, gasping out as Daryl's weight presses onto her.

“Bring these goddamn legs back,” he grates out, skin sweaty on hers as he curls his fingers around her knees and picks up his pace, slamming home harder.

Doing as she’s told, barely mobile, Beth shakily lifts them up and bends so that her feet nearly touch her ass cheeks, moaning all the while. Daryl’s hands let her go when he can see that she's got the position he wants, his thick arms instead worming to tuck beneath her body and band across her chest, squeezing her tight to him, not faltering in his rhythm _once_. Beth’s hand reaches back to grip his head where he buries it in her neck, his cock sliding so deep it’s sinful as she sobs her pleasure, intercepted with in-distinguishable sounds that could be _ohmygod, it’s so good, it’s so good, don’t stop, don’t stop, please, please._

The fact that they've barely undressed, the belt buckle on Daryl's trousers smacking her ass cheek and her dress falling down her hips so much he has to shove it up, drives her wild. His shirt presses damp and sticky with sweat against her back, his breath in her ear and his beard scratching her shoulder. Beth tilts her head and squeezes her fingers in his hair, moaning deliriously. Everything inside her is burning, every scrape of his skin, every touch of his fingers, every thrust of his cock too much, too good, sending her positively fucking insane. 

"Fuck, Daryl! S'so deep! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Harder, please! Please, please, please! I missed y'so much! God, oh God!" 

"Beth," he whispers heavily, his teeth scraping her earlobe. "Missed y'so fuckin' much." 

Her head flops forward, the back of her neck exposed to his quick bites. "Come f'me girl. C'mon."

Daryl's practically growling through his teeth and it's that which tightens her cunt sharply, locking him deep inside her. Her legs lock, her feet pressing into her ass cheeks where they're bent back and all his weight squeezing the breath from her. This orgasm is no more intense than the last one, not tender or soft but harsh and unforgiving. Beth sobs into the sheet beneath her, fucking her hips back in the minimal space between their bodies. 

"I'm comin'! I'm comin'! Shit, I'm comin'," she screeches, Daryl's hips pounding her body so deep she doesn't know where she begins or ends. 

"Fuck," he hugs her tighter, black spots floating before her eyes. "Me too, girl. Me too."

The end of her orgasm begins the start of his and for a long while she's lost in the mind numbing pleasure blending between them. Even when it's over, they stay pressed to each other, sweat soaking them, chests heaving. Everything feels good, feels right. Everything she's missed is back, all her missing parts clicking together with his. She might be a fool for trying to walk down the same path, she might be getting it all wrong again, but she wants to try, needs to try. He found her at her weakest all those years ago, and maybe that's why it didn't work.

Beth's stronger now, much stronger and she's not letting the love of her life slip between her fingers again. 


End file.
